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THE QUIET COURAGE 

AND OTHER SONGS 
OF THE UNAFRAID 



BY 

EVERARD JACK APPLETON 



STEWART & KIDD COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS - - - - CINCINNATI 






du 



COPYRIGHT, 1912. 
STEWART & KIDD CO. 






^ h 

CCI.A309894 



/ L- -C 



To the men who understand 
— or think the^ do. 



These songs originally appeared in Ains- 
lee's, The Ladies' Home Journal, Good 
Housekeeping, the Cincinnati Times- 
Star, the Cincinnati Commer- 
cial Tribune, and the Ob 
server. The author wishes 
to thank the publishers 
for their permission 
to reprint the 
verses in the 
present 
form. 



CONTENTS 

The Quiet Courage, ------ ±1 

Steadfast, 12 

Unafraid, --------13 

A Christmas Prayer, ------ 14 

The Woman Who Understands, - - - - 15 

My Love in the Garden, ----- 17 

You, --------- 18 

The Christ Day. - - 20 

Best of All, -------- 21 

Till Then, -------- 22 

The Mother Faith, ------- 23 

The Gray Day, ------- 24 

Day by Day, --------25 

The Fighting Failure, ------ 29 

The Way of the Man, - - - - - - 31 

The One, - - -- - - - - 33 

Ambition, --------35 

The Driver, ------- 36 

The Legacy, - - - -- - - -38 

The Two, -------- 39 

The Astronomer, -------41 

The Scout Ship Speaks, ----- 42 

The Soul Captains, -------44 

He is Not Dead, 46 

What Dark Days Do. 47 

Meeting Trouble, ------ 48 

7 



The Courageous Clover, ------ 49 

The Believer, _---___ 50 

When June Gets Here, ------ 51 

And I Have You, __--_. 53 

Sometimes, --------54 

The Call of the Mild, - 55 

Hold Fast. - - 57 

Valentines, _---___ 59 

Bred in the Bone, -------60 

* Jaybird Ain't No Singer," ----- 62 

An Answer, --------63 

"Mindin' Baby," 67 

Compensation, -------69 

The New Overcoat, ------ 71 

The Dancing School, - - - - - - 73 

The Growing Girl, -_--__ 75 

The Busy Handy Man, ------ 76 

The Letter to Santa Claus, ----- 78 

The Baby and the Burglar, - - - - - 80 

The Little Fellow, 82 



8 



THE QUIET COURAGE 



THE QUIET COURAGE 

WITH gentle patience that no man might boast 
She does her daily task, year after year. 
Meeting her v/orries as they come, she waits — 

In her brave smile there is no sign of fear. 
Putting behind her each white, little ghost 
Of longings that were once so dear, so dear. 
She lives her life to-day — to-day and here! 

Not always speed those days on happy wings. 
Not always from her heart trills out a song; 

Sometimes it trembles on the tender lips. 
Yet in the brave eyes courage lingers long. 

Seeing — and understanding — still she sings 

Nor feels that life has been all sad, all wrong — 
To her a wondrous faith and strength belong. 

Perhaps some day, the one who knows her best 

Will know how through the storm and stress and 
strife 

She stood steadfast through troubles multiplied. 
When every day dull doubt and pain were rife. 

Smothering all within her faithful breast 

When he had turned his back on hope, on life — 
She showed the quiet courage of a wife! 



11 



STEADFAST 

IF I can help another bear an ill 
By bearing mine with somewhat of good grace — 
Can take Fate's thrusts with not too long a face 
And help him through his trials, then I WILL! 
For do not braver men than I decline 
To bow to troubles graver, far, than mine? 

Pain twists this body? Yes, but it shall not 
Distort my soul, by all the gods that be! 
And when it 's done its worst, Pain's victory 

Shall be an empty one! Whate'er my lot. 
My banner, ragged, but nailed to the mast. 
Shall fly triumphant to the very last! 

Others so much worse off than I have fought; 

Have smiled — have met defeat with unbent head 
They shame me into following where they led. 

Can I ignore the lesson they have taught? 

Strike hands with me! Dark is the way we go. 
But souls-courageous line it — that I know! 



12 



UNAFRAID 

1HAVE no fear. What is in store for me 
Shall find me ready for it, undismayed. 
God grant my only cowardice may be 
Afraid — to be afraid! 



13 



A CHRISTMAS PRAYER 

ON this glad day God grant that we may find 
The good which we have missed in other men; 
To their small faults and errors make us blind, 

Show us the way to help them — not condemn. 
Give us the grace to realize that we 
Are not from imperfections wholly free. 

Grant that we cheer each other on the way 

When it seems dark and Doubt would question 
"Why?" 

Help us to find contentment day by day 
To live with courage — ^and fear not to die, 

Give us a strong man's strength to fight — and then 
A child's pure heart for evermore! Amen. 



14 



THE WOMAN WHO UNDERSTANDS 

Somewhere she waits to make ;^ou win, j^our soul in her 

firm, w^hiie hands — 
Somew^here the ^ods have made for ^ou, the Woman Who 

Understands ! 

AS the tide went out she found him 
■**• Lashed to a spar of Despair, 
The wreck of his Ship around him — 

The wreck of his Dreams in the air; 
Found him and loved him and gathered 

The soul of him close to her heart — 
The soul that had sailed an uncharted sea. 
The soul that had sought to win and be free — 
The soul of which she was part! 

And there in the dusk she cried to the man, 
"Win your battle — you can, you can!" 

Broken by Fate, unrelenting. 

Scarred by the lashings of Chance; 
Bitter his heart — unrepenting — 

Hardened by Circumstance; 
Shadowed by Failure ever. 

Cursing, he would have died. 
But the touch of her hand, her strong warm hand. 
And her love of his soul, took full command, 
Just at the turn of the tide! 

Standing beside him, filled with trust, 
**Win!" she whispered, "you must, you must!'* 
15 



Helping and loving and guiding, 

Urging when that were best. 
Holding her fears in hiding 

Deep in her quiet breast; 
This is the woman who kept him 

True to his standards lost. 
When, tossed in the storm and stress of strife. 
He thought himself through with the game of life 

And ready to pay the cost. 

Watching and guarding, whispering still, 
**Win you can — and you will, you will!'* 

This is the story of ages. 

This is the Woman's way; 
Wiser than seers or sages, 

Lifting us day by day; 
Facing all things with a courage 

Nothing can daunt or dim. 
Treading Life's path, wherever it leads — 
Lined with flowers or choked with weeds. 

But ever with him — ^with him! 
Guidon — comrade — golden spur — 
The men who win are helped by her! 

Somewhere she waits, strong in belief, ^our soul in her 

firm, white hands: 
Thank well the gods, when she comes to ^ou — the Woman 

"Who Understands! 



16 



MY LOVE IN THE GARDEN 

IT is n*t the robins' coming 
That makes the spring seem near, 
It is n*t the brown bees' humming 

The soft air, sweet and clear, 
It is n't the violets* blooming. 

The buds on the dogwood tree, 
It 's just my love in the garden 
Singing a song for me! 

It is n't the roar and rattle 

Of strife that does not cease; 
It is n't the daily battle 

That will not give me peace. 
It is n't the fame or fortune 

That urges me endlessly, 
It 's just my love in the garden 

Singing a song for me! 

When I have finished the task, dear. 

When all of the work is through. 
For heav'n I will not ask, dear. 

But only for you, for you. 
There 's joy in the thought of resting 

Under the tulip tree, 
With just my love in the garden 

Singing a song for me! 



U 



YOU 

GIVE me your hand ... I have need of it now. 
Need as never before, 
For the strength that was mine is utterly gone — 
A part of my Kfe no more! 

I have walked through the valley of Dead Desires 

Tasting the dregs of despair; 
I have sought for a sign that should give me peace, 

Sought, — but it was not there. 
For some, there is Faith that illumines the Path 

For some, there is hope, ever strong; 
But the touch of your hand is the need of me now — 

The sound of your voice in song! 

Shaken and numb is the soul of me, yet 

It shall triumph, if yours be true. 
Brain and hands shall create and build 

But only for you! for you. 
And even that apple of dust. Success, 

Shall come, if that is your will. 
Give me your hand, — ^with the song on your lips, — 

And the ache in my heart is still! 

All that is worthy in me, is yours — 

What if my dreams be dead? 
Fires of faith still burn in your heart. 

Unbowed is your regal head. 
18 



Only your love and the light in your eyes 

Can save me from self-defeat. 
I am done with the Game . . . but your calm, 
white soul 

Shames mine when I think of retreat! 

Give me your hand , . . And the strength that 
is there 

Shall waken my own anew, — 
I can force the fight and win, by the gods! 

But not for myself — for You! 



19 



THE CHRIST DAY 

THE Christ Day dawns — that clear, white day of days 
When Love unfolds within the soul those flowers 
That set the heart to singing songs of praise 
For happy moments and for useful hours — 
This is the day we cross the threshold where 
Love, and the joy of childhood fill the air! 

If I have wrung with pain no woman's heart; 

Have caused no little one to shrink. If men 
Doubt not my earnest will to do my part 

And bear my burdens with some courage — then 
Let me draw near! . . . 
I Ve won my right to share the Christmas cheer! 



20 



BEST OF ALL 

SO like a rose, her cheeks, her dimpled chin; 
So like a lily white, her forehead fair. 
So like the poppies red, her perfect lips. 

So like the mist at dawn, her filmy hair. 
So like the very sweetest flowers that blow. 
Love is her natural heritage, I know! 

So like the whispering wind, her thrilling voice 

Sweeping my heart strings, lighting love's white fire. 

So like two star-born violets her eyes 
That look into my soul and see — desire. 

So like a graceful goddess, set to song. 

Love is her right, withholding it were wrong! 

So like a Princess, gracious, dignified. 
From useless pomp and ceremony freed, 

So like a Queen, crowned with her loveliness. 
Her soft, strong hands no golden scepter need. 

Who could not love her, be he Prince or churl? 

For best of all, she is so like — a girl! 



21 



TILL THEN 

THEN this is all? . . . 
The way we came no longer glows 
With daffodils; no more the robins call, 

Beside the path there blooms no sweet wild rose. 
To see what lies ahead, I dare not try; 
— Sweetheart, good-bye! 

Yours was the choice . 

Within your hands, so quick to give. 
Life's balance trembled once. Do you rejoice 

That, broken on Fate's Wheel, to-day I live. 
Still loving — still unworthy, though I try? 
— Sweetheart, good-bye! 

Somewhere, some day . 

The darkened way will lightened be. 
I know — I do not hope, nor wish, nor pray 

But wait — for what is mine must come to me. 
Then — happiness! . . . Until there dawns the 
Light. 

— ^Sweetheart, good-night! 



11 



THE MOTHER FAITH 

YOURS were the hands that held me first of all, 
Yours were the lips that taught mine own to* 
smile. 
Yours were the eyes that watched my every step. 
And yours the heart that showed me Love worth 
while; 
Whatever good men see, in part or whole. 
Is but the dear reflection of your soul! 

When others laughed at all my dreams, you held 
Those dreams — and me — close to your loving breast. 

Giving me strength to try, and when I failed. 
Your faith alone stood firm above the rest. 

For you believed some day I would succeed — 

The finest spur that any man could need! 

And so, to-day, though far from what I 've sought. 
The goal unreached, the prize as yet unwon. 

Your hands still hold on high Belief and Trust, 
As once they held my baby self — ^your son. 
$ ^ $ ^ ^ ^ ^ 

The Mother-Faith knows naught of doubt or fear. 
But goes serenely on, year after year! 



23 



THE GRAY DAY 

RAIN, and the mist, and lowering skies. 
An opaque haze that will not lift; 
And yet I remember her wondrous eyes. 
Her velvet eyes, in which love lies. 

As into the past my dream-boats drift. 
So, what if the rain falls ceaselessly? 
My heart can sing of that memory! 

The damp leaves shiver, the great trees nod 
In the silent wood, where the wet winds sigh; 

And yet I remember the paths we trod. 

Together we trod, on the sunlit sod. 

In the past that is ours, my love and I. 

So what if the skies are dark as night? 

There were other days that she made bright ! 

The twilight comes ere ever the sun 

Has pierced the gloom of the clouds that cling; 
Yet I remember her smile, that won 
Me back to hope when I thought life done — 

That wonderful, sun-filled day in spring. 
So, why should I care for a day that is gray — 
When memory holds that day, alway? 



24 



DAY BY DAY 

GIVE me my tithe of strength to walk the way. 
By practice, not by tinkling platitudes, to show 
A steadfastness that, growing day by day. 
Helps others, and the inner-me, to grow; 
A sturdy will, before my course is run. 
To see beyond the shadowings, the sun! 

Who does not sometimes feel life not worth while. 
Or curse the fight that wearies brain and soul. 
Is dead indeed! . . . Those triumph most who 
smile 
When mists of doubt obscure the Final Goal. 

Then give us strength, when in the valley's gloom. 
To note that on the hills the flowers bloom! 

Again, and yet again, my work will fail 

To measure to the simple standard set; 
Despite resolves, the calmest soul must quail 

And care so little, it grows numb. . . . And yet 
Grant me, with other things, one touch of mirth — 
And I will make my heaven here on earth! 



T!> 



II 

MAN VERSE 



THE FIGHTING FAILURE 

HE has come the way of the fighting men, and. 
fought by the rules of the Game, 
And out of Life he has gathered — ^What? A living, — 

and little fame. 
Ever and ever the Goal looms near, — ^seeming each 

time worth while; 
But ever it proves a mirage fair — ever the grim gods 

smile. 
And so, with lips hard set and white, he buries the 

hope that is gone, — 
His fight is lost — and he knows it is lost — and yet he 

is fighting on. 

Out of the smoke of the battle-line watching men win 

their way. 
And, cheering with those who cheer success, he enters 

again the fray. 
Licking the blood and the dust from his lips, wiping 

the sweat from his eyes. 
He does the work he is set to do — and **therein honor lies." 
Brave they were, these men he cheered, — theirs is the 

winners' thrill; 
His fight is lost — and he knows it is lost — ^and yet he 

is fighting still. 

And those who won, have rest and peace; and those 

who died have more; 
But, weary and spent, he can not stop seeking the 

ultimate score; 

29 



Courage was theirs for a little time, — ^but what of the 

man who sees 
That he must lose, yet will not beg for mercy upon his 

knees? 
Side by side with grim Defeat, he struggles at dusk or 

dawn, — 
His fight is lost — and he knows it is lost — and yet he 

is fighting on. 

Praise for the warriors who succeed, and tears for the 

vanquished dead; 
The world will hold them close to her heart, wreathing 

each honored head. 
But there in the ranks, soul-sick, time-tried, he battles 

against the odds. 
Sans hope, but true to his colors torn, the plaything 

of the gods! 
Uncover when he goes by, at last! Held to his task 

by will 
The fight is lost — and he knows it is lost — and yet he 

is fighting still! 



30 



THE WAY OF THE MAN 



From the singin' hell of the iightin' top, to the stokers* hell 

below, 
We hear th' news, the sorrowful news : " Th' jRghtin* man 

must go!" 

WHEN earth was new and life was true, 
And men went brown and bare. 
They fought on land, and they killed by hand, — • 

Their scrappin' was on the square. 
'T was blow for blow, with never a show 

Of bands or banners unfurled. 
And th* strong men lived ^whilst th' weak ones 
died — 
For that was th' way of the world. 

(And it war n't so bad, when you stop to think, 
Fer the health of a bran' new world!) 

As th* ages passed, man learnt, at last, 

The value of strategy, 
And he fought his fight with skill, not might. 

Whether on land or sea. 
It was swing and smash, — a stab and a gash 

In th* back, — ^if a back was near — 
Yet th' "rules** of the game was jest th' same; 

T* lose was his only fear. 

(Th* man who fights ain't thinkin* of rules — 

T' lose is his only fear!) 

31 



Then th* Twelve-inch came "to silence th' name 

Of War, that belongs to th' Past." 
But th* armor-plate growed thicker than hate, 

An* th' smokeless foUored fast. 
Bigger and better they built their guns. 

And bigger th' warships gray, 
Till they measured their strength by weight and 
length, 

And not by the men — not they! 

(Peacefully fightin' their wars, at home. 

But not with th' men — ^not they!) 

And now they swear that up in th* air 

The nations will settle their scores; 
So it *s "Good-bye, lad," to th' ironclad, 

**So long!" to the black 12-bores. 
"The airship fleet will never meet 

Save only to arbitrate. 
For war is done, as it should be done!** 

Mebbe it is . . . But wait! 

(For somethin* tells me it ain't QUITE through 

As long as two men can hate!) 

So this is th' waj? I fii^er it out: Man is a savage still: 
He likes to eat and he likes to love — but better than all, f 
KILL ! 



32 



THE ONE 

I KNEW his face the moment that he passed 
Triumphant in the thoughtless, cruel throng, — 
Triumphant, though the quiet, tired eyes 

Showed that his soul had suffered overlong. 
And though across his brow faint lines of care 
Were etched, somewhat of Youth still lingered there. 
I gently touched his arm — he smiled at me — 
He was the Man that Once I Meant to Be! 

Where I had failed, he 'd won from life, Success; 

Where I had stumbled, with sure feet he stood; 
Alike — ^yet unalike — ^we faced the world. 

And through the stress he found that life was good. 
And I? The bitter wormwood in the glass. 
The shadowed way along which failures pass! 
Yet as I saw him thus, joy came to me — 
He was the Man that Once I Meant to Be! 

I knew him! And I knew he knew me for 

The man HE might have been. Then did his 
soul 
Thank silently the gods that gave him strength 

To win, while I so sorely missed the goal? 
He turned, and quickly in his own firm hand 
He took my own — the gulf of Failure spanned, . . . 
And that was all — strong, self-reliant, free. 
He was the Man that Once I Meant to Be! 

33 



We did not speak. But in his sapient eyes 
I saw the spirit that had urged him on, 

The courage that had held him through the fight 
Had once been mine, I thought, "Can it be gone?' 

He felt that unasked question — felt it so 

His pale lips formed the one- word answer, "No!" 



Too late to win? No! Not too late for m< 
He is the Man that Still I Mean to Be! 



34 



AMBITION 

*D like to be a scientist 
For just a little while; 
I 'd search until I found the germ 
That makes a human smile. 



And when I 'd found it, I would get 
A law passed, broad and firm. 

Whereby the world should be inoc- 
ulated with that germ. 

And when the world was all a smile, 
I 'd earn uncounted wealth 

By finding one more bacilli — 
The Microbe of Good Health! 



35 



THE DRIVER 

This is the song of the man vrho drives his 'plane through 

the silent night, 
Whose fear is dead, Tvhose fate is sealed, ere ever he starts 

his fUght! 

THERE'S seven seas that *s charted, but there 's 
one that will not be, 
(O, what 's the use of knowin* things, unless you 
know 'em all?) 
There 's eighty billion stars, accordin' to As-tron-o- 
mee — 
But what 's the use of namin' 'em — if there is more 
to fall? 

With my hand upon the lever. 

And my eyes upon the gauge, 
I gotter drive this 'plane all night 

To reach the landin' stage. 

The air is boilin' ugly, though th* engine 's running 

strong ; 
But the boss won't know what *s happened, if anything 

goes wrong! 

*'It takes a nerve that's steady and an eye that 's 
clear," they say! 
(O, what 's the good of knowin' things that 's mostly 
guff and guess?) 
It takes a nerve that's reckless, and an eye, blind in 
th' day, ^ 
To operate a 'plane at night — and not land in a mess! 

36 



With the outcome, if I blunder, 

I 've no thin' much to do; 
They '11 bury what they find of me — 

And of the others, too! 

Zing! I nearly clipped his rudder. . . . Hear his 

siren curse and drool, 
I wonder if he thinks he owns this streak of air, the fool ! 

There 's the Night Mail's hum above me and th* 
French Express below 
(O, you get to know the tunes they sing while learnin* 
how to drive!) 
There *s a wrecking storm ahead of us — my indicators 
show — 
And there 's goin' to be some trouble in Strata 
Number Five! 

The game is full of trouble. 

And the end is hard and short; 
But the Lord do n't like a quitter 

Accordin' to report! 

So I try to keep her steady, and you '11 hear my engine 

hum 
Till some night I miss the current — and wake up in 

Kingdom Come! 

For this is the song of the man who drives b^ night 
through the Sea of Air, 

Whose fears are dead as the moon itself, vtrhose watch- 
word is : ' ' J dare. " 

37 



THE LEGACY 

I HAVE looked my last on joyous youth; days of 
the white dreams gone, 
But I purpose to walk the rest of the way with never 
a longing thought; 
Courage is not of an age nor a time — ever it struggles on. 
Growing in strength and building true on all that 
the past has wrought. 
Then Courage shall go the way with me — 
An heritage — and my legacy! 

I have striven, in vain, for the greater things; for goals 
that my youth desired. 
Hotly following will-o'-the-wisps, born of Fire of Hope ; 
But now, in the cool of the quieter day, what if the 
soul be tired? 
Courage will help defeat the ills with which I have 
yet to cope. 
Stripped of my youth, I still may find 
Help in the years I have left behind. 

Leaving the course to the swift and sure, through 
by-ways I will fare, 
Hearing at times the joyous call of the runners 
upon their way. 
Learning, though late, to know the flowers, learning 
at last to care 
For the birds that sing, and the stars at night- — the 
sun-filled, wind-swept day! 
Learning that Youth may leave in its place 
A Courage that bears a smiling face. 



THE TWO 

NOW, if aught be true, then this holds true — 
The man who dares is a Flame: 

Setting the blood in our veins afire. 

Lighting the blaze of the Great Desire — 
Burning his way to Fame. 

Yet the man who keeps the ground he wins, 
Though his words be calm and his pace be slow- 

The man who sees that the Jest begins 

Where the Tragedy ends — ^he is good to know- 
Few are there better than he to know! 

The man who dares cuts a furrow wide: 
He sows on a broad-cast scale 

And cradles the crops on the uplands high. 

Where others may note him, against the sky — 
But what of the grain in the vale? 

He knows no law but his own, self-made. 
That daily he bends to his feverish will, — 

A meteor flashing past worlds more staid, 

— But the North Star guides the mariner still- 
Steadfast and true it guides men still! 

The meteor-man is ever blind 
To aught but his will to win. 
Through the choking smother of battle-mist 
He glimpses the world — but it's all a- twist 
And wallowing deep in sin! 
39 



While a little way off, with courage calm 
The other fights on, in his quieter way. 

Steadfast his brain and strong is his arm 
At finish as well as start of the fray — - 
And he holds all he wins in the fray I 



40 



THE ASTRONOMER 

HE goes through life discovering new spheres- 
Computing distances between the stars; 
His name on every Hp the world now hears — 
And yet there is one thing his triumph mars; 
He lives so much above the world that he 
Its ordinary beauties can not see. 

Grave scientists aver that through life's span 

His name will shine with luster, as to-day; 
But ask them how he 's helped his fellow-man 
Along the weary road— they can not say! 
He sees the glories of unmeasured space — 
But misses that found in the human race. 

man of science, though your studies deep 
Have made the secrets of the heavens plain, 

1 am not envious. Your triumph keep. 
And count it, if you wish, unequaled gain; 

Your humible neighbor has a better plan — 
He finds the good points in his fellow-man! 



.41 



THE SCOUT SHIP SPEAKS 

{The Yankton, the "scout-ship" of the U. S. fleet that 
circled the ilohe, slipped quietlj^ into Hampton Roads ahead 
of the war vessels.) 

GOD of War, I have done my work, I have plowed the 
Seven Seas; 
Now give me rest! For I 've need of rest, more than 

any of these. 
Grim they be, and full of strength, ready to fight their 

kind, 
But I have led them 'round the world — they have 
followed behind! 

Built for battle, they fought their way when waves 

were black with storm, 
They laughed at Neptune when he roared, their hearts 

with trust were warm. 
For I, the shuttle that weaves the web of safety 'round 

the fleet, 
Have done my work as it should be done, and now my 

task 's complete. 

Where they have done ten thousand miles, of thou- 
sands I 've done a score. 

Back and forth, by seas o'erwhelmed, courier-ship — 
and more — 

Watching and guiding, never at rest, I was the hand 
in the night 

To feel if the way were clear for them — their sense 
of touch and sight. 

42 



Racked and strained in every bolt, yet true to my 

inmost soul, 
I Ve led them home! Let Neptune rave, he has not 

levied toll! 
They ride to-day in the Roads, flag-trimmed, while 

I, at last am free 
To take my ease, my hard-earned ease, if you but 

grant it me! 

God of War, I have done my work, I have followed 

the Seven Seas; 
Now give me rest, for I Ve need of rest more than any 

of these; 
They ride at anchor at home, at last — peers of their 

fighting kind, 
But I have led them every mile, while they — they 

followed behind! 



43 



THE SOUL CAPTAINS 

nPHE Guardian of the Gate looked down and watched 
•^ them coming on, 

A close-knit rank of new-born souls treading the star- 
lit dawn, 

Shoulder to shoulder and step by step — sturdy as shades 
might be — 

And the Guardian of the Gate, perplexed, wondered 
whom he should see. 



"What souls are these?" he asked at last, "who hold 

their heads erect: 
Who bend no knee, whose eyes look up, — are they 

without respect?" 
The Captain lifted a steady hand, saluted and thus 

replied : 
*'We are the souls of the Men who Dared, — who lived 

with courage — and died ! 

** We asked not why; we cared not why; we gave of our 

best in the fight; 
The bitter or sweet; the cruel or kind — each as he saw 

the Light: 
We did not wince when the whip-lash stung, but strove 

by the rules we knew, 
If you would have us on bended knee, none of us will 

go through." 

44 



The Guardian of the Gate, wide-eyed, nodded his 

haloed head. 
"This is the talk of the living," he said, "and not the 

speech of the dead." 
The Captain smiled. "We are dead, indeed — but 

habit is strong in the soul 
And the God we seek cares not to have men crawling 

to reach the Goal. 

**We lived and loved; we wrought and laughed; we 

did what was given to do. 
Not for rewards, and not through fright, but each to 

his standard true: 
That the Master within grants peace and joy to humans 

made good through fear 
We won't believe, and we can't believe — else why are 

we summoned here?" 

The Guardian opened the Gateway wide. "Enter!" 

was his command, 
"The depth and breadth of the Master's love at last 

ye may understand!" 



The Light of the Endless Peace shone down as he 

opened the judgment roll 
And found their names. They had earned their rest 

— Captains of heart and soul! 



45 



HE IS NOT DEAD 

L_IE is not dead! For Death can only claim 

* ■'■ Those who have lived their lives for self alone 

Or walked with Sin; and he whose very name 

We love, had naught for which death should atone. 

He is not dead! For when the sunlight fills 
The world, I see it in his happy face; 

The blue sky with his reawakening thrills, 
In every gentle breeze his voice I trace. 

"There is no God!" we cry, when, wrung with pain. 
Our hearts rebel, and eyes with tears are dim; 

Yet his own life was refutation plain — 
No one but God could have created him! 

He is not dead! The violets that were dear 
To him, shall tell us plainly that no death 

Can touch his soul, as each succeeding year 
They stir, to life renewed, in Nature's breath. 

Beneath a shelt'ring elm, upon a knoll. 

There rests, in flowers, the Garment that he wore; 
In sunlight, love, and peace, his calm, white soul 

Guides and protects those whom he loved before. 

The circle of his life was small, but bright — 

So golden were his deeds, his thoughts so rare, — 

And now it is a halo of God's light 

That any Angel would be proud to wear! 

46 



WHAT DARK DAYS DO 

1 SORTER like a gloomy day, 
Th' kind that jest won't smile; 
It makes a feller hump hisself 

T' make life seem wuth while. 
When sun's a-shinin' an' th' sky 
Is washed out bright an' gay. 
It ain't no job to whistle — but 
It is — 

When skies air gray! 

So gloomy days air good fer us. 

They make us look about 
To find our blessin's — ^make us count 

The friends who never doubt. 
Most any one kin smile and joke 

And hold blue-devils back 
When it is bright, but we must work 

T' grin — 

When skies air black! 

That 's why I sorter like dark days. 

They put it up to me 
To keep th' gloom from soakin' in 

My whole anatomy! 
An if they never come along 

My soul would surely rust — 
Th' dark days keeps my cheerfulness 

From draggin' 

In th* dust! 
47 



MEETIN* TROUBLE 

TROUBLE in the distance seems all-fired big — 
Sorter makes you shiver when you look at it a-comin' ; 
Makes you wanter edge aside, er hide, er take a swig 
Of somethin' that is sure to set your worried head 
a-hummin'. 
Trouble in the distance is a mighty skeery feller — 
But wait until it reaches you afore you start to beller! 

Trouble standin' in th* road and frownin' at you, black. 
Makes you feel like takin' to the weeds along the 
way; 
Wish to goodness you could turn and hump yerself 
straight back; 
Know 't will be awful when he gets you close at bay! 
Trouble standin' in the road is bound to make you shy — 
But wait until it reaches you afore you start to cry! 

Trouble face to face with you ain't pleasant, but you '11 
find 
That it ain't one-ha'f as big as fust it seemed to be ; 
Stand up straight and bluff it out! Say, **I gotter a 
mind 
To shake my fist and skeer you off — ^you do n't 
belong ter me!" 
Trouble face to face with you? Though you may n't 

feel gay, 
Laugh at it as if you wuz — and it '11 sneak away! 

48 



THE COURAGEOUS CLOVER 

BETWEEN the street car tracks up in the park 
A cheerful little clover rears its head 
And gossips with the bees that fly its way 
To rest, when they are over honey-fed. 
The grass grows there, but cowers to the ground 

Frightened and limp, when rumbling swiftly over 
The street cars pass; and dust-grimed, greasy trucks 
Knock to the earth the cheerful little clover. 



Its dainty head is battered ruthlessly, 

Its smiling face is soiled, day after day. 
But every time it bravely rights itself 

And greets the rising sun with laughter gay. 
What though the grease and grime drip from its leaves? 

What though it daily suffers untold pain? 
It knows the gentle rain will come once more, 

And freshen it into glad life again. 

I take my hat off to that little flower — 

It does n't talk, but ah, the lesson great 
It teaches, by the hopeful way it lives — 

A lesson that we often learn too late! 
Though circumstance has placed it where each day 

A juggernaut, relentless, passes by, 
Each morn it lifts its bruised but plucky head 

And, undefeated, smiles up at the sky! 

49 



THE BELIEVER 

A SONG to the man who says, "Old chap, 
*~* Your time is coming some day; 
Just keep on hoping and doing your best, 

For that is the only way!" 
Mayhap he is talking straight through his hat. 

Mayhap his words are not true. 
But, nevertheless, a health to the chap 

Who says he believes in you! 



Knockers are numerous nowadays, 

And flatterers seek their own ends; 
You scorn the first, and the second, you know. 

Are nothing but fair-weather friends. 
But the man who helps is the man who sticks. 

It matters not what you may do; 
He does n't talk much, but when you lose hope, 

He says, "I believe in you!" 



When the last race is run and you've won — or lost. 

He shares your triumph or pain. 
He presses your hand — or steadies it while 

The Cup of Defeat you drain. 
And when the End comes, I know there's a place 

Reserved with the Favored Few 
In Paradise, where he will get his reward — 

The Man Who Believes in You! 

50 



WHEN JUNE GETS HERE 

WHEN June gits here 
I cal'culate t' take 
A day or two, an' lay around th' farm, 
Jest listenin' to the birds an' bees an' things 
That work so hard — it won't do them no 
harm. 
I 'm goin' to loaf a few days of the year 
When June gits here! 

When June gits here 
Th' craps kin grow awhile 
Without me gittin' up afore daylight 
An' urgin' them to hump theirselves, I guess, 
Fer weeds do n't never need no help — that 's 
right ! 
Th' corn an' wheat won't have my hand to steer 
When June gits here! 

When June gits here. 
Seems like a man finds out 
That this here world was made fer work AND 
fun. 
An' that, ef he should quit work fer a spell 

Th' universe would manage, still, to run, 
It's true, although sometimes it may seem queer. 
When June gits here! 
51 



When June gits here, 
I '11 drap my hoe and hunt 
The shady side of that old creek an' fish 
An' dream, — an' eat, — an' sleep — an' be 
As lazy as a man like me could wish. 
Fer I am sure the Lord kin run this sphere- 
When June gits here! 



52 



AND I HAVE YOU 

IF you had never come into life — 
Had never let me look into your eyes, 
Reading therein the hope that never dies 
But glows resplendent through all bitter strife — 
Then I had never known what Faith can do-^ 
Had I not you! 

If you had never walked close by my side, 

And with those wondrous eyes, seen in my breast 
The tiny flame that I had never guessed 
Burned there, what little good I do, had died! 

You had such faith, you faltered not. You 
knew, — 
And I — had you! 

If you had never shown me life is just 
Living this day to-day — not far ahead; 
That love is best, when all is done and said. 
Then would I still be trudging through the dust. 
Lifting your own pure soul, you lift me, too, 
While I — ^have you! 



53 



SOMETIMES 

SOMETIMES I hesitate which road to take when 
walking out; 
Sometimes concerning rain or shine I entertain a doubt ; 
Sometimes I do n't know what to smoke, cigar or 

cigarette ; 
Sometimes I speak to many men I 'm not sure that 
I 've met. 

But when I have to buy a hat, 
My pocketbook decides all that! 

Sometimes I can't choose what to eat for breakfast 

or for lunch; 
Sometimes I like my joys spread out, and sometimes 

in a bunch; 
Sometimes I do n't know which to wear, my heavy 

coat or light; 
Sometimes I do n't know what to say, "Sublime!" or 

"Out of sight!" 

But when it comes to buying clothes 
My pocketbook knows what it knows! 

In short, I hesitate so much at times that it would seem 
I 'd hesitate to hesitate — I 'd dare not scheme to 

scheme ; 
It 's only when a question comes that has to do with cash 
That I can settle it off-hand, and still not be so rash ; 
For, from an empty pocketbook 
You only get one kind of look. 
54 



THE CALL OF THE MILD 

CAN I roll a cigarette if the paper 's damp with sweat? 
Can I roll and light and smoke it, with one hand? 
Can I take a bronc. and bust 'im till with babies you 
could trust 'im? 
Can I do it? You just bet — to beat the band! 
As a puncher I 'm a scream (so my bunkie lets me 
dream), 
I have herded cows for half a dozen years. 
But I'm tired of the prairie, — the darned, old sun-dried 
prairie — 
And I 'm sicker still of chambermaiding steers! 
So it's back, back, back 
Along the dear old track — 

I 'm going to hit the East Trail in the fall. 
Where there's something bright and new, 
(And a little music, too!) 

I hear the mild life calling and I '11 answer 
to the call! 

I took a fool degree at my college, but, you see. 

They thought I 'd shine some better in the West; 
So they shipped me off out here (and forgot me, never 
fear!) 

With the hope that I would "do my level best!" 
Did I do it? Well I did, though a soft and verdant kid, 

I 've learned the biz., with trimmings on the side. 
With a handy bunch of dough, I 'm going back to throw 

Some ginger into those who have n't died. 

55 



So it's hike, hike, hike 
Along the iron pike — 

I 'm going to hit the East Trail in the fall; 
With my "breezy. Western way" 
(That I 've paid for, day by day,) 

I hear the mild life calling and I '11 answer 
to the call! 

When I left 'em years ago, everything there was to 
know 
I was wise to (Little Johnny-on-the-Spot!) 
But I found that half I knew was n't useful, was n't 
true — 
For the West can always teach you quite a lot. 
Every man here plays the game on the level, just the 
same, 
(If he does n't, he 's not in it very long,) 
But the novelty is gone, and the years are trekking on — 
And I 'm thirsty for the Wine of Life and — ^Song! 
So it's back, back, back 
On the homeward track — 

I 'm going to hit the East Trail in the fall. 
And 1 wonder if SHE 'S still 
Unmarried? . . . If — she — ^will ... — 
I hear the mild life calling and I 'II answer 
to the call! 



56 



HOLD FAST 

WHEN you 're nearly drowned in troubles, and the 
world is dark as ink; 
When you feel yourself a sinking 'neath the strain. 
And you think, "I Ve got to holler 'Help*" just take 
another breath 
And pretend you've lost your voice — and can't 
complain ! 

(That's the idea!) 
Pretend you ' ve lost your voice and can't complain ! 

When the future glowers at you like a threatening 

thunder cloud, 

Just grit your teeth and bend your head and say: 

"It's dark and disagreeable and I can't help feeling 

blue. 

But there's coming sure as fate a brighter day!" 

(Say it slowly!) 
"But there's coming sure as fate, a brighter day!" 

You have bluffed your way through ticklish situations; 
that I know. 
You are looking back on troubles past and gone; 
Now, turn the tables, and as you have fought and won 
before. 
Just BLUFF YOURSELF to keep on holding on! 

(Try it once.) 
Just bluff YOURSELF to keep on — ^holding on. 

57 



Do n't worry if the roseate hues of Ufe are faded out, 
Bend low before the storm and wait awhile. 

The pendulum is bound to swing again and you will find 
That you have not forgotten how to smile. 

(That's the truth!) 
That you have not forgotten how to smile. 



58 



VALENTINES 

T MIGHT, of course, send violets by the score, dear, 
* (And stretch quite to the breaking point, my credit) 
In verses, tell the story o'er and o'er, dear — 

But " really" poets have much better said it. 
I might send candy, books or songs, I know. 

But all of these seem stupid commonplaces, 
I 'd rather be a kid again and show 

My love in gorgeous hearts and paper laces! 
"If you love me as I love you — " 
Is best of all, when it is true! 

You might disguise your hand and shyly send me 

A dainty volume, filled with sentiment, 
But that would not be yours! . . . Dear heart, 
just lend me 
The right to love you daily — I 'm content. 
Saint Valentine may do as a reminder 

For those who say, '* I love you " once a year; 
My love is blind, and daily growing blinder 
To special days — I love you ALL days, dear! 
" No knife can cut our love in two — " 
My Valentine for aye — that's you! 



59 



BRED IN THE BONE 

HE went to live in far Japan, where life is like a dream; 
Where cherry blossoms scent the air and care 

is dead, 't would seem; 
Where sweet wisterias climb the porch up to the tiny 

roof 
And fling their flowers to the air; where trouble holds 

aloof ; 
Where geisha girls and jinrickshas and fans and love 

and tea. 
Make up the life of ease he sought, from worldly 

troubles free. 



He went to live in far Japan, and there one day he 

bought 
A little doll-house for himself — at least that 's what he 

thought — 
And settled down to rest himself; the years of grinding 

work 
Had made him feel at last as if he 'd really like to shirk. 
The work he'd done had been so hard, so strenuous 

and strained 
That sometimes he had welcomed death. Now in his 

heart peace reigned. 

He went to live in far Japan, and for a year or more 
He was content to dream, and eat, and sleep upon the 
floor, 

60 



To wander through the countryside and watch the 

flowers bloom. 
To steep his soul in laziness, and banish earthly gloom. 
And then a sloe-eyed musmee came across his path 

one day, 
And love got in his clever work in just the same old way ! 

He went to live in far Japan, where people do not swear. 
And yet he swore she should be his, she was so young 

and fair; 
Ambition woke again, for him, and though she was 

content 
To marry him, and stay right there, back to the States 

he went 
To make a bigger fortune so that she might shine above 
The other musmees. . . . That 's the way we 

Occidentals love! 



61 



"JAYBIRD AIN'T NO SINGER" 

JAY-BIRD ain't no singer, 
But his clothes is gay; 
Flies up in er tree an' yells 

All de livelong day. 
Soun's des lahk a dorg-fight 
When he 'gins ter squawl, 
Othuh buhds dey stands aside — 
Lets him do it all! 

Jay-buhd ain't no ahtist — 

Dat don't bodder him! 
Finds er place to holler 

On de highes' limb. 
Prop he mouf wide open. 

Howl des lahk a cat; 
Thinks he 's doin* wondhers — 

Will you look at dat! 

Odder buhds don't lahk him, 

Dey des leave him be. 
Go erway and let him think 

He done bought dat tree! 
Ain't he lahk some folkses — 

(Find 'em Norf an' Souf)? 
Might mek people b'lieve in him- 

Ef he'd SHET HE MOUF! 



62 



AN ANSWER 

T WATCHED her lovely head bend low; 
'^ Her misty hair, so soft, so bright; 
I watched her color, warm and deep. 

And in her blushes took delight 
At last 1 said, "Give me your heart; 

You've stolen mine!" . . . She breathed a 
sigh — 
"Love me!" I cried, "Love me alone!" 

But all she answered was just " Y?" 

Closer I came and caught her hand; 

She laughed and slipped away from me. 
And down the rose-lined pathway ran, 

A fairy, sweet and fair to see. 
At last I found her, "Now," I cried, 

*' You can't escape, for I must know 
The man you love — his name, his name!'* 

But all she answered was just "O!" 

Into my arms I took the witch, 

(Deep in my heart she 'd reigned for years) : 
And kissed her lips, her red, red lips. 

Despite my doubts, my doubts and fears. 
"His name!" I cried again, "speak quick!" 

And then, somehow, I knew, I knew! 
^ $ $ $ ^ ^ ^ 

Her answers spelled it out for me 
For tremblingly she whispered "U!" 
63 



Ill 

THROUGH YOUNGER EYES 



"MINDIN' BABY" 

MINDIN' baby ain't much fun 
When the other fellers say, 
*'Goin' ter have a game of ball; 

Do n't you wisht that you could play?" 
Then it seems like baby gets 
Jest so heavy I can't hold 
Her no more! Gee, do n't I wisht 
She would hurry and get old! 

Hafter «?et and see 'em go 

With my bat an' glove and ball 
Out into the alley, where 

I kin hear 'em laugh an' call.- 
Mindin' baby ain't much fun 

When you wan ter play, by gee! 
Still — I guess when I was small 

Some one had ter care fer me. 



When I think of that I jest 

Pick her up and make her smile; 
Poke my fingers in her cheeks — 

Brings a dimple after while. 
Then she puts her leetle arms 

Tight around my neck an* tries 
To explain it ain't HER fault — 

Looks so pleadin* with her eyes! 
67 



Mindin' baby ain't much fun 
Fer a lively boy, you bet, 

When he'd ruther play baseball 
With the other boys — and yet 

When she coos and pats my cheeks, 
I jest can't keep bein' mad. 

When she loves me that a-way, 
Mindin' baby ain't so bad! 



68 



COMPENSATION 

(the little invalid's confession) 

MY Head hurts orful bad, and when I lay- 
Flat down in bed, and see the birds and sky, 
I wisht that I could run out doors and play — 

Or leave my body here and fly — and fly! 
I gotter pain 'most every place what is, 

And when I try to set up, somethin' goes 
Jest like a pin-wheel in my head — sizz! — sizz! — 
And I kin feel it clear down to my toes. 

Yet bein' sick is not so bad, someways — 
Nobody has said, "Do n't!" to me for days! 



Ma moves around the room jest like an elf. 

Till sometimes I don't know she's really there; 
And then I tell long stories to myself 

Until she comes and smooths my cheeks and hair. 
**What is it, dear?" she asks me, soft and low, 

And then I ketch her hand and kiss it — quick — 
And tell her I don't 'member — or don't know. 

What makes her turn so fast and look away? 
She 's never once said, ** Do n't!" to me to-day! 

The doctor telled her some day I 'd be well, 
And said that I was -good to lay so still; 

He ain't that pleasant always; I kin tell 
That ma has ast him if I " truly will,'* 

69 



And so, when I hurt worse — ^sometimes I do — 
I do n't say so to her — 't would make her get 
Discouraged with me, and feel awful blue; 
So I jest keep my mouth and eyes tight shet. 
Ma is so good to me! She has n't said 
"Do n't I" to me once since they put me to bed! 



70 



THE NEW OVERCOAT 

IGOTTER overcoat, I have! A real one, an' brand 
new. 
My ma, she buyed it at a store; it's color is dark blue, 
An' it's got buttons made of gold, 'at shine jest like 

th' sun 
'N I can wear it every day. O, gee! But I have fun! 
Ma got it all fer me — and it 
Ain't brother Bob's '*cut down to fit." 

I gotter overcoat, I have. It 's warm as any toast, 

I wear it when I go to school, and when I skate or coast; 

'N all the other boys, they say, *'0, lookee, here 

» comes Jim — 

He 's gotter overcoat that fits — it must feel strange 
to him!" 

For it 's the first one, do n't you see, 
Bought 'specially an' jest for me. 

I gotter overcoat, I have! When ma sends me to 

bed 
I take it, too, an' lay it on th' piller by my head. 
So when I wake I can reach out an' touch it with my 

hand. 
An' know it was n't jest a dream — that makes a boy 
feel grand! 

The boys at school can't say THIS coat 
Is old enough to walk or vote! 
71 



I gotter overcoat, I have; an' when I get t' be 

A man and marry Bessie Jones, my children — ^you will 

see — 
Won't hafter wear each other's clothes. Most ev'ry 

week I '11 say 
"Go buy yourselves jest what you want — throw those 
ol' things away!" 

I bet they'll think I 'm awful good — 
If pa said that to me, I would! 



72 



THE DANCING SCHOOL 

|N ev'ry Friday afternoon my ma makes it a rule 
To dress me up and send me off to this old dancing 
school, 
Where ev'ry girl I ever knew, and some I do n't, get's 

smart 
And giggles when I try to waltz, or learn the steps by 
heart. 

I wish the folks that like it so 

Would come and dance — and let me go! 

I never asked to come up here; I hate it, yes, sireel 
And what 's the good of doing it, no one can make me 

see; 
It 's well enough for sissy boys and little girls, I guess 
That like to laugh and talk a lot, and comb their hair 
and dress. 

But boys as big as I am, know 

There 's heaps more fun in playing "show." 

Most ev'ry girl that I **invite" knows that I 'splse 

to dance; 
I step upon their feet and knock their knees, they say, 

and— PRANCE; 
And when I make my bow to them, sometimes I slip 

and fall, 
And then the whole room laughs at me, but I do n't 
care at all. 

Some day the teacher '11 put me out 
And when she does, O, won't I shout! 
73 



There ain't a boy goes to this school that I can't lick, 
I know, 

For all they think of is their steps, and how to two- 
step slow. 

And then — and then, the only girl that does n't laugh 
at me 

Can't come at all, although she's just as nice as she 
can be. 

She's lame for life, I heard ma say — 
But she's the NICEST, anyway! 



74 



THE GROWING GIRL 

I'M not a little bit of girl no more. 
An* do n't talk baby- talk like I did when 
I had to have nurse put on all I wore — 

I 'm never goin' to be small again. 
I 've got a teeth that's loose — a baby teeth. 

That I can wiggle jest as easy — see? 
An' there's a new one coming underneath 
That will be jest as white as it can be! 

An' I am growing so that mamma says 

She just can't keep me in nice-lookin' clothes; 
An' Uncle Bob said, ''There's other ways — 

Jest buy her rubber skirts, and waists, and hose;" 
He uster to make me cry, he teased me so. 

But now I know he meant it just in fun. 
He takes me walking now, he "likes to go 

With grown-up folks," he says — an' I am one! 

I know I 'm getting big, but that ain't all — 

When company comes to dinner, they can see 
That I am growing old as well as tall. 

An' none of them talk baby-talk to me. 
The chair I sit in is jest like the rest 

Although my feet do n't reach down to the floor. 
Of all the nice things, this I think 's the best — 

I do n't sit in a high chair any more! 



75 



THE BUSY HANDY MAN 

MY pa*s an awful busy handy man about th' house; 
He 's got a chest o' tools that he won't never let 
me touch; 
An' when ma tells him something's broke, pa jumps 
right up and says, 
**I '11 git to work and fix it now — it won't amount 
to much." 
An* when he takes his plane an' savv^, an' puts on his 

old clothes 
An' rolls his shirt sleeves 'way, far up — I tell you, my 
pa knows 
The way a thing should be repaired, an' he will plan 

and plan — 
I 'm proud as I can be that pa is such a handy man I 

Last week he fixed a table that had lost its right hind 
leg; 
He took it to the kitchen, an' he sawed an' ham- 
mered till 
He jarred the plaster off the wall — at least cook said 
he did — 
An' let me stay to watch him, pervid-ed I kept still. 
It was n't very pretty when he got it done, I know, 
But pa, he ain't responsible, when furnishure acts so — 
So when it would n't stand alone, ma says, " I guess 

I can 
Make use of it for kindling wood!" Ain't pa a 
handy man? 

76 



But yistiddy he fixed two chairs, a window an' a door. 
An' broke his saw an' bust his thumb, an' my, but 
he was mad! 
An' then he went to fix the lock, but said he guessed 
he'd stop, 
Cause ma would not encourage him — an' then he 
looked real sad. 
When he had gone, ma shook her head, an' says, "John, 

run an' get 
The carpenter down street, an' we will have things fixed 
right yet," 
An' when pa came back home at night, 't was done! 
Then he began 
To ask ma if she was n't glad he was a handy man? 



11 



THE LETTER TO SANTA CLAUS 

1WRITED a letter to Santa Claus and give it to 
ma to read, 
And when she was through she laughs and says, "My 

darling, you do not need 
Half of the things you have put down here — ^had n't 

you better do 
It over again before we send it on up the chimbley flue?'* 
She ast me that, but I 'm sure she knows 

(As well as a mother can) 
That Santa Claus is what pa calls 
A very lib-er-ul man. 
And when we send him our letters each year, the biggest 

things always lead; 
We ask for the things that we want, we do, and not 
for the things we need! 

I writed that letter to Santa Claus, and writed it plain 

as I could; 
I asked for an ottormobile and a dog, and a tent and 

some scroll-saw wood; 
A 'lectric car and a pony cart, like Jimmy Jones got 

last year; 
A gun and a ring and a sled — and some skates, and two 
of his best reindeer. 

When pa read my letter over he says, 

"Are you sure you have n't forgot 
Something you want? There 's no request 
In this for a house and lot! 
78 



I feel kinder sorry for Santa Claus and his ever-willing 

steed — 
You 've asked for the things you want, that 's plain — 

and not for the things you need!" 

Then I writed another to Santa and said, **The list 

that 1 jest now sent 
May be too big, my father says — at least that is what 

he meant; 
So if you are poor and have n't enough to go around, 

just leave out 
The skates — 1 have got three old pair here, and they 
will last no doubt." 

I showed it to pa, and he says, "My son 

That 's truly kind of you; 
Santa appreciates unselfish boys — 
And I fear there are very few." 
Then he smiled at ma, and she says, "Never mind; 

he is a good man, indeed; 
He '11 bring you this year the things you want — and 
next year the things you need!" 



79 



THE BABY AND THE BURGLAR 

(with variations) 

ONE nigKt I woked up quick — I 'd Keard a sound 
Like some one moving through our downstairs hall. 
It was too late for folks to be around 

And so I thought at first I 'd better call — 
But then I 'membered 'bout a book I read 

Of how a girl had gone downstairs one night 
And found a burglar there, and what they said — 
And after that the burglar 'haved all right! 

So I got up and tiptoed down the stairs 

And there he was! A really burglar-man! 
He had our silver piled up on the chairs 

Out in the dining-room, so I began: 
*'0, Mr. Burglar, please do n't make a noise. 

My mamma 's got a headache, and she 'd be 
Most scared to death — ^you can have all my toys 

If you '11 just stay down on this floor with me!'* 

He sort of jumped when he first heard me speak. 
And then he grumbled, '* Blame the sassy kid!'* 

And when he grabbed me up, I kissed his cheek — 
(But still he did n't ACT as if I did!) 

For he just tied me in my little chair 

And stuffed a napkin in my mouth and said, 

"You should n't butt in — after this, take care! 

You can't believe the stories that you 've read." 
$ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 

80 



Our cook, Miranda, found me there asleep, 

When she came down next morning. O, dear me 

But I was tired! After this I '11 keep 
Still in my bed — and let the burglars be! 



81 



THE LITTLE FELLOW 

I AIN'T afraid to lay here in the dark 
And listen to the hall clock tickin' slow; 
I ain't afraid to hear that old mouse run 

And gnaw the wall — he can't get out, I know. 
I ain't afraid to shut my eyes an' hold 

Them tight. But I just can't help feeling queer; 
I get so lonesome, ma, I 'd like to cry — 
I would n't feel so bad if you was here! 

I like to hear you laughing on the porch. 

And always when my pa smokes a cigar 
I get a little smell of it up here — 

And that's the way I know just where you are. 
He 's sittin' in the corner, where it 's dark, 

And you are close beside him — just as near 
As I would get to you if you would come — 

I would n't feel so bad if you was here! 

Of course, I know I 'm just a little boy 

And have to sleep a lot, so I will grow 
Into a great big man, like pa is now — 

But sometimes it is awful hard to go! 
I like to hear you talk, and I could be 

Lots quieter than you think I could, O dear! 
I wish, ma, that you'd married oid^ me — 

I would n't feel so bad if you was here! 



82 



APR 15 1912 



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